Little Flower
by Mouth da Incredible
Summary: While Brooklyn is in the middle of a raging war with Harlem, Dallas, second in command to Spot, sends his five year old sister to Manhattan so that she doesn't get hurt. What kind of insanity will ensue? RELOADED AND CHECKED!
1. Harlem's Dirty Trick

I gently touched his saturated hair and shook him.

"Dallas, Dallas?"

He didn't respond and I felt tears coming to my eyes. I curled into a little ball and my long black hair whipped wildly around my small form mingling with the rain drops that ran sadly down my legs. I heard my sob break the air along with thunder and lightening as if heralding the begginning of the rest of my life.

Ignoring the wet ground I lay down as the tears streamed down my face brokenly in a continuous flow of saddness. I couldn't have stopped them, a mere girl of five was no match for chains and knives alike, my strength a dwindling property. The moonlight had gleamed forbodingly in their eyes as they came at us, just an older brother and a little girl in the streets of New York, a seemingly perfect target. Dallas stepped up and tried to save me and he had, just not without a price. Once the men had realized the punishment that my screams would most likely bring along they sliced me in the arm viciously and sped off to god knows where, pocketing the money they had stolen from us as they ran. I didn't know what was going on and really was too disoriented to know anything besides my arm hurt and I wanted to be anywhere but this alley. I was still crying when I heard an agonized groan and I sat up immediately, ready to take action if needed. Instincts from street living always brought me that. It was Dallas, I thought, but I couldn't be sure. I then heard footsteps on the cobblestone way.

Upon surveying the scene I saw a figure entering the alley way. They seemed male, at least six feet tall, muscular to say the least and had a strange looking hat on, turned up rims with a peak and dip crown. The black exterior and handsome draw string seemed somewhat faded as did the rest of his ensemble, a plain shirt with brown slacks and a bandanna of some kind around his neck. I couldn't see more in the pounding rain and jumped up with my fists raised, determined to make the best of the skills I had learned from Dallas. My tears were long forgotten as the guy came closer.

"Stay back ya bastahd!"

He seemed shocked at such foul language from a small girl and came over to me at a run. Somehow he was intimidating, but not threatening to me. We were almost touching noses and I looked into his deep mahogany brown eyes, noticing his very pouty lips and the red hue of the bandanna. It was a cowboy hat on his head. I stared fearlessly at him trying to hide my real feelings of stripped terror.

"I ain't gonna hoit ya."

For some reason I believed him. I blanched slightly as he reached over to brush one strand of hair out of my face and gave me a somewhat sympathetic look. Without gesturing to my brother he spoke.

"Do you know him?"

I nodded.

"My brotha."

Now I could see that this boy was about seventeen. He walked over to Dallas and bent down next to him, holding one hand over his mouth. I looked on expecting nothing more than what I thought, he was somehow not there. The boy lifted Dallas into his arms as if he weighed nothing and I looked on in admiration. I was never able to budge Dallas when we wrestled.

"Common kid, lets get you outta dis weatha."

I followed along obidiently and about halfway to wherever it was we were going the boys started off in a run and I followed suit, not running at my normal quick speed so as not to outrun the boy. He led us past the green statue of the old fat man as I so lovingly knew it and went right, taking us towards the only light still on in the street. Before we went in the door I could vaguely make out the words Newsboy Lodging House through the watery haze.

Inside I saw a desk in front of me and slightly to the left of that was a staircase leading into the darkness above that was the second floor. An old man who I daren't guess the age of was there behind the desk peering over his spectacles at us as we entered the door. His bowler shaded his eyes slightly giving him an almost comical look. His stunned expression turned from Dallas, to me, then to the boy.

"Jack, what's dis? WHO is dis? Tell me somethin!"

The boy, or, Jack, stared steadily at him and gave him an answer that was truthful but vague.

"Jus kinda found em. One of Spot's boys."

He proceeded to march upstairs still carrying Dallas and I followed like a good little mutt. Once we reached the doorway at the end of the hall upstairs, light flooded my eyes and I squinted, slightly unaccustomed to the brightness. Bunks upon bunks were lined up in countless quantities along the walls and boys of all ages, shapes, and sizes filled the room yelling and gambling in the poker game, led by a small little guy who seemed much older than he looked with that Havana hanging out of his mouth. Some of the boys looked up and heralded Jack, stopping when they noticed Dallas.

"Who's dat, Cowboy?"

Jack shrugged and glared at the speaker.

"Jus some guy from Brooklyn. Can't rememba his name."

I followed him into the room not making eye contact with anyone and walked up to where he was holding Dallas. I looked at Dallas again and before I knew it he groaned slightly. I jumped back with my fists raised and then sighed, embarassed by my instinctive reaction. One of the boys came up to me and bent down to level. I looked at him trying to muster some false bravado.

"Hello dere."

He seemed kind, even more muscular than Jack, and had the same brown eyes, just not as cold. He smiled and I smiled back.

"Whadya hea, whadya say."

This was how I always greeted people and had been taught to greet people, it was proper, or so I had grown up. Some of the boys laughed and the one in front of me just chuckled a bit.

"From Brooklyn?"

I nodded.

"Ise Mush," he said.

He spit in his hand and held it out to shake, most of the boys laughing at the thought of me actually answering back in the same manner. Just to prove them wrong I spit in my palm and held it out, my small hand engulfed in his large one.

"Blaithlin."

Mush grinned at me.

"Where'd ya get a name like dat?"

I shrugged.

"Me mum I guess."

"What does it mean?"

"Ya don wanna know."

He didn't, and I wished that I had never learned in the first place.

Jack had set Dallas in a room off to the side and I immidieately went in to see him. Looking innocently up at Jack I asked the one question I could tell my lips to ask.

"Is he dead?"

Jack laughed a little and shook his head.

"Naw, he ain't dead. Jus knocked out. So what happened in dat alley kid?"

I started in telling him about the goons that had jumped us and everything. I left out the part about my arm hoping he wouldn't notice but the blood was running down under my shirt sleeve now and he saw it. Gingerly lifting my shirt sleeve his eyes went wide.

"Did dey do dat to you?"

I nodded.

"That's shameful."

This voice was not Jack's nor mine but that of a smarter sounding boy. When I looked up I saw a boy of sixteen at medium hight sporting a brillo head of curly brown hair and one brown dot in the middle of his cheek. He walked over to me and inspected the gash, stopping when he saw me wincing I supposed.

"Can ya fix it Davey?"

The boy nodded and took a box out of the closet in the corner. He withdrew a bottle of strange smelling liquid and a long bandage roll and little did I know the hell it would bring. I didn't want to scream and start sobbing so I bit my lip, which was a good thing once he poored that stuff into my arm. It hissed and bubbled wildly, sickening to say the least and burned like hell fire. I won't cry out, I won't cry out, these were the thoughts that kept me from doing just that.

Once the stuff had simmered, Davey put a wrap around my arm with careful precision and nodded slowly while doing so.

"That should be sufficient."

Jack nodded and led me over to where Dallas was laying in the middle of the room. Just when I walked over his eyes fluttered open and he looked around strangely.

"Oh, heya Blaith."

He seemed so accustomed to everything that I raised my eyebrows.

"Heya Dal."

I hugged him and he sat up, letting me sit in his lap as he addressed Jack.

"Oh, heya Jack. Dallas from Brooklyn."

Jack nodded in recollection and shook his hand, gesturing down to me.

"What's da big idea, Dal? Ya left yor sista in da freezin rain! Shame..."

Dallas could see he was joking and laughed good naturedly.

"Yea, sorry wese was in yor territory, tryin to sell this afternoon an some guys chased us all da way ova hea. Got my money right enough."

Jack nodded and held up my arm for Dallas to see.

"She's got a nice one."

Dallas inspected it much like Davey had and scowled.

"Lousy, bums, I'd soak em, kill em, reurect em, and kill em again!"

Jack shook his head.

"If the guys had played fair, you woulda gotten em."

Dallas nodded and looked down protectively at me. He seemed so guilty, having let his little sister get hurt. I smiled up at him.

"I'm ok Dal."

He laughed humorlessly.

"Shore, Little Flower, shore."

I slapped him playfully.

"Don call me dat."

Jack laughed.

"So dats what Blaithlin means, don it?"

I rolled my eyes.

"To fast fer me."

Dallas ignored us and stood up to leave.

"Yea, well tanks anyway Jack, but we gotta get back to Brooklyn. Spot's expectin us."

Jack stood also and blocked us from getting anywhere.

"Not in dis weatha ya not."

Looking out the window in the bunk room we saw that the rain was still coming down hard.

"Spot'll be hea in da mornin, you can bet on dat."

I wasn't so sure, Spot had more to worry about than just two of his kids. Dallas agreed though and we made our way into the bunk room, dodging guys here and there and went to join the poker circle. There were playing five card draw and the guy with the cigar dealed Jack and Dallas in. They didn't even bother asking me if I wanted to play, which I didn't take offensively, knowing that no one thought girls were capable of playing poker. Dallas picked up his hand and looked at it, trading in two times and then putting down his cards.

"Eh, shit I fold."

The dealer had a triumphant look on his face and I didn't like the evil glint in some of the other players eyes. Not being one who wanted to go poor and hungry I picked up Dallas's folded hand without him noticing and saw some familiar patterns in there that I could do some things with. I traded in the last card and withdrew the very one I had wanted.

"Lay em down boys," said the dealer cockily.

They did and I put our cards down in front of me. The dealer had three of a kind and the boys growned at their straights and two of a kinds.

"Pay up," said the dealer.

This was too much.

"Heya, I tink Ise have da betta cards."

He looked up and saw me for the first time, smirking then looking down at my hand. His eyes went wide and his mouth stood slightly agape, the cigar falling out of his mouth and smoldering on the floor. Full house.

"What the hell!"

Dallas looked over at me.

"I folded, Blaith."

I shook my head.

"I unfolded you."

He laughed as did the other boys as I collected from the pot. It was amazing the lack of poker skills these days.

I was slightly behind Dallas and could see the humongous and bloody lump he sported on the back of his kabash and winced slightly as I saw it. Looked painful.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned instantly, looking up into the face of a blonde haired boy with an eyepatch over his left eye.

"Can I talk to Classic for a sec?"

This I recognized to be my brother's nickname and I remembered the first time anyone had ever called him that. It had been Spot Conlon when he first met us. Dallas had been all gentlemanly and proper, just because we hadn't been away from home for a long time yet and it was still with him. Dallas stood and greeted the boy and the two went to talk in the corner, leaving me to fend for myself among the rough and rowdies.

"Blaith."

I looked up at Jack.

"Who taught ya to play?"

"Dallas."

Jack nodded but then looked down again.

"Then how come he always loses?"

The boys laughed and I couldn't help but giggle. This was true, maybe I just had the knack.The dealer took the cigar out of his mouth.

"She's so silent."

One of the boys spoke up in a mellow and intelligent voice.

"Maybe it's because she doesn't waste her breath on stuff that don need to be said."

It was a tall and older looking boy with straight black hair that fell about to his chin lenth and gazed at the crowd with dark eyes that I could almost have fallen into.

"Stille," reported a gruff boy with a thick german accent.

"Wha does dat mean?" asked the dealer in a suspicious tone.

"Silence," threw in the boy sitting beside me.

Jack smirked, "There's a name for her, jus modified. We'll call er Stilly."

The crowd cheered in approval and when Dallas walked back over he was confused.

"What's the commotion?"

"Shame, Classic, can't even be dere when yor sista gets her newsie name."

Dallas turned a cold glare on Racetrack and looked back to me.

"What is it?"

"Stilly."

"Why?"

"Cause Stille means silence in German. Dey tink I'm silent."

"You are," replied Dallas with a small smile. "Have been for years."

I stuck out my tongue at him and the boy Dallas had been talking to laughed.

"See, most would jus say fuck you, but she was silent about it. It fits."

"Shove it Blink," Classic said, a smile threatening to come over his face.

I grinned and yawned, tired from everything that had taken its toll on me. Dallas picked me up and set me in an extra bunk, kissing my forehead as I entered the dream land.

"Night Stilly, little flower."

I nodded with a goofy grin on my face and drifted into a world of swirling colors.

A/N- Interesting, is it not? I have to use word pad because my new comp doesn't have word office yet. Soon! Oh and I just reposted this, but heres the thing. Please pardon the awkward sentence structure in this one, i tried to change it but the earlier chapters are the basis of the later ones and I couldn't really do that very well. I promise I have a better style later on. Sorry!!! R&R!


	2. Spot's Anger Aroused

That night I slept only because my dreams kept me occupied, nightmares more like. A shadow creature stood before me, raising up through the flames and roaring like a lion. It was holding what I suspected was my mother in its clutches, squeezing her ruthlessly and relishing in her screams of agony. I ran up to it and started bashing it and kicking it just like I knew how and the creature merely laughed at me and kicked me away. "No one is safe." Its voice was a sibilant hiss like that of a snake and I shuddered involuntarily. "Death is soon to come." I figured that it meant my mother, for it was on the verge of suffocating her and in one last desperate effort I threw myself into the shadow, feeling somewhat of a burning sensation for one split second but then found myself plumeting into a dark hole. I screamed as I felt the wind rush past me and I could feel the hard floor as I smacked on the bottom of the pit.

end dream

I awoke with a scream and found myself indeed on the hard wooden floor of the bunk room. I hadn't cried because I never did; only when I thought Dallas was dead had I ever shed a tear and I didn't like the feeling. I was sweating and my breathing was shallow and rapid, my small chest heaving with fear. I saw that outside the sun was rising and decided I might as well get up because there was no telling how these boys got up in the morning; I would just watch from the sidelines.

Drawing myself up off the floor I went into the washroom I had spotted earlier and tried to reach up and grab a comb, but found I wasn't tall enough. Looking around I spotted a stool and dragged it over, stepping on top and looking myself in the mirror. I was a reddish parlor from walking the streets in the hot sun for these past two years and my hair was jet black, going down my back in pretty curls. I had freckles dotting my nose and cheeks and my eyes were dark blue, quite piercing to say the least. I threw some water on my face to wake me up and glanced over at Dallas's sleeping form. I grinned evilly thinking of all the fun I could have.

Tip toeing over silently I didn't even make the floor boards creak, not like my 30 pounds or so could. Dallas's mouth was slightly open and seizing a stray pillow feather I started tickling his nose, causing him to scrunch it up. I stopped for a second and just looked at him; I guess I hadn't realized how much he had grown. He had shaggy black hair and piercing green eyes, looking slightly like me but not much. He was at least six foot and was more muscular than any of these boys could ever hope to get. He always had a switchblade tucked in his belt and he didn't want me to know, but he had taught me how to fight with one so I don't know why he didn't think I would figure it out. Dallas had been the only family I had ever had and he hadn't told me anything about my mother and father, but I guessed that he wouldn't tell me until I was older. Lots of the time at night he would awake with a start like I did and I would pretend to be asleep while he went downstairs. Then, as quietly as I was now, I would follow and see him sitting at the poker table with Spot, talking in hushed tones. Spot and Dallas were best friends, Dallas being his second in command. They were both very fair, but hard when time called for it, and really good guys inside, just not to the ones they punished. Spot was kind of like my brother too, just not the way Dallas was. I found it hard to explain when I was little but back then things didn't need and explanation. They just were. Spot was scrawny compared to his boys but was stronger and could fight better than any of them, even Dallas. He had piercing gray eyes and dirty blonde hair, forever holding his cane with his slingshot in his back pocket. I respected him, but at the same time smart mouthed to him. I loved them both and it was strange to think that the other boys knew them for something that they weren't, cold mean snakes that would bite your head off and keep poisoning you when you thought they were dead.

Just then Dallas stirred, causing me to jump slightly. I shook him, becoming impatient and wanting to go find Spot, Manhatten was too boring for me. Dallas opened his eyes lazily and yawned, stretching his arms which were probably longer than I was. He eyed me sleepily and grinned stupidly.

"Heya Blaith. Oh, right, Stilly."

I punched him playfully and he picked me up and held me upside down. I gasped as he held me there and squeaked at him, "Lemme down, Class!"

He chuckled evilly and shook his head.

"Nope, this is too much fun."

"I'm warnin ya Dallas..." He grinned at this and guffawed at the very thought of ME warning HIM.

"Say Uncle!" he crowed.

"This is it Dallas. 1...2...3..."

With one mighty swing I pulled myself up in crunching position and punched his chest. It didn't do anything more than surprise him, but he let me go all the same. I flipped once in the ari before landing on my feet solidly. He just looked at me wide eyed.

"Gotcha," I said with great mirth.

He shook himself out of his stupor and smiled.

"That's my Little Flower. We better get goin, Spot will probably meet us at the distribution office."

I remembered our duties of keeping Spot happy and we started to walk out the door before the kid with the eyepatch caught up with us.

"Heya Classic. Mawnin Stilly."

Dallas greeted the boy and turned to me.

"Stilly, this is Kid Blink, Kid, Stilly."

I just nodded in greeting and Kid Blink grinned.

"Yeah, I heard the boys talkin about it las night. Goiman (German) says dat her name means silence."

Dallas nodded, apparently havng talked to the boys last night about my name.

"Yeah,_ stille._"

It kind of annoyed me how they talked as though I wasn't there. I ignored them though and thought about some new selling tactics. Wait, what? I didn't need tactics, I was the cute little girl who every person within the vicinity was drawn to. They loved my adorable cuteness, the way that I almost bent under the weight of the paper. Of course, I spread it on thick remembering that I had a brother that I needed to care for. We had sold papers for two years now, ever since , "that fatal day." This was how Dallas always referred to it and I wondered if that was the night my parents had died. Every time I even said the word "mother," or "father," Dallas looked hurt and too pained to talk about it so I never asked any questions. Dallas was the best seller in town next to Spot; I guess he just let Cowboy think he was better so as not to lose face in front of his boys. I laughed at that. When we reached the Manhatten Distribution Office, I looked around and did indeed see Spot and Krane, flanked by at least four other boys. I tugged on Classic's sleeve and motioned to them and with that we said our goodbyes and left Blink to buy his papes.

Spot's face showed no emotion but in his eyes I could see that he was worried. I was used to looking at his eyes so they didn't faze me as much as they might others. Also, being only four, I didn't know to be afraid of them. He fingered his cane and looked at the tip, giving Dallas a sideways glance.

"Where ya been Class."

It wasn't a question, but more of an order.

"Got knocked aroun' in an alley las night, Cowboy wouldn't let us go."

Spot nodded and looked down at me.

"He ain't lyin is he?"

I shook my head in all seriousness and he smirked.

"I won't believe you Class, but I'll believe Blaith. Case closed."

Dallas shook his head and chuckled.

"Oho, you missed it."

Spot stopped and looked up at him, squinting as if he was about to spit.

"Missed what?"

"Her named is Stilly now."

"Stilly?" It was apparent as Spot echoed this that he didn't get it.

"_Stille _means silence in Goiman and Goiman named her Stilly. It stuck."

Spot nodded thoughtfully and we continued walking.

"Yeah, I guess it does fit, don't it?"

Spot nodded. He motioned the other boys on and pulled Classic and me asied.

"What happened? Who dunnit?"

I wasn't quite sure what Spot was referring to but Dallas seemed pretty sure.

"Da Bronx. I'd recognize Lobsta anywhere, and he brought Cruncher wit im."

Spot shrugged as if saying, "So?"

"Ya should've been able to take them no problem, Class."

Dallas nodded but then looked down at me.

"It was kind of hard to keep both of em from gettin to er, specially since dey had two knives a piece, a pair a brass knuckles, and a couple a switchblades. Every once and a while I'd look back ta make shore she was okay. Dey still got me and her, most of all."Spot seemed concerned. Looking down at me, he said, " Where'd dey get you."

I looked down at my feet and quailed under his gaze. Classic lifted up my shirt sleeve to reveal the bandage, which was now soaked through with blood.

"Dose BASTARDS! I'LL MUTALATE EM! DEY'LL DIE FOR DAT!"

Spot seemed completely serious and I grimaced at the thought of what he really might do. I took his hand and looked up into his furious face, gazing innocently and serenly up at him.

"Ise okay Spot."

His face softened, but still seemed hard as a rock.

"Have you looked at what dey done ta ya Blaith?"

I nodded.

"I'm fine."

Spot looked towards the heavenly realm as if to say, "What did I do to deserve this child."

Dallas laughed slightly and we resumed walking to Brooklyn.

"Didn't even cry, it was incredible."

Little did he know.

"Still, I'm goin over to talk to Grit, if he can't control his boys and keep em in dere own territory, wese gonna have some problems anyway."

Thus, in all subtelty, the conflict had risen.


End file.
